The Inner Void
by A Nicole That Morphs
Summary: A character sketch on Quatre, from his point of view. (Obviously.)


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The Inner Void

It's been a while since the war has ended, I suppose a few months by now. It's amazing how quickly one can lose track of time if all that time is spent by yourself. All my life I've always had someone to hang around with, someone to talk with. Whether it was my father, or one of my sisters, and later on it ended up being Trowa. I was foolish to think that everything would be the same after my father died.

I remember what it was like after my father was killed; murdered by the very people he helped. I lost sight of my enemy, I lost sight of my allies, I lost sight of everything that once meant anything to me. I didn't think I could ever feel more lost and alone; I now realize how wrong I was. I tried to convince myself that after the war was over, everything would return to normal for me. Sure, my father wouldn't be around, but I thought I could make it past that obstacle. I thought I would always have someone else there for me. I never realized how selfish I was, how dependant I was upon other people. 

After my encounter with the Zero system, I realized how badly I needed someone to understand me. That person ended up being Trowa, unfortunately I was still bent on revenge when we met up again, and I nearly killed him. He was far too nice to me, I didn't deserve that sort of kindness. All those weeks without knowing if he was alive or not agonized my soul every night. All I could think about was how he showed me the way when I was lost, and how my thanks to him was killing him. After about two weeks of hoping, I had given up on finding Trowa ever again. When I finally gave up, my depression, my isolation only became worse. I managed to hide it when I was around Miss Noin or Miss Relena while I was in the Sanq Kingdom, and I thought I hid my loneliness from Heero too, but Heero was the only one who saw through my cover. As many times as Heero told me not to give up, I couldn't help but not listen to him. I stopped trusting people after my father died. The only person I trusted afterwards had been Trowa, but I trusted him only after I thought I had killed him. I look back on it now and realize that I trusted him before I thought I killed him, although in a different sense. I had trusted him not to get in my way, I trusted him to understand my new mission. It was stupid to think he would see it my way, and at this point I'm glad he didn't. He helped me regain sight of my enemies, my targets. He helped me to become myself again.

After the final battle, when the Libra blew up, we all went our separate ways. After I was out of the hospital, I tried to convince Trowa to stay on the L-4 colony with me, but he said he had something else he had to take care of. I'm sure it had something to do with Cathrine, the fact that he didn't come back with me. I must admit that I was happy for him, that he had someone to return home to. I think I may have been a little envious too, knowing that the other pilots all had someone else somewhere who cared for them. But I didn't have anyone to return home to, I only had my painful memories. Directly after the battle Heero headed off somewhere, I haven't heard from him since. Wufei mysteriously disappeared after the battle as well. I think maybe Duo had sensed my loneliness, maybe my dread of having to go back to my mansion and be virtually alone. Or maybe he just wanted someone to talk to for a while who wasn't Hilde. Either way, as I said good-bye to Trowa, Duo said he would stay on the L-4 colony with me, but that he could only stay a couple of days. I was glad to hear him say that, I knew that if I had no one to talk with I probably wouldn't make it, I'd probably end up killing myself. I was surprised that Trowa thought I had been able to deal with all my problems, my memories. He thought I had been able to put the ghosts to rest, as they say. He obviously thinks I'm a lot stronger then I really am.

Duo and I had a great time while he was at my mansion. We talked about so much, although we never talked about what really mattered. I know Duo has his own memories to deal with, and I wish I had the nerve to ask him what those memories were. Maybe if I had had the nerve, he'd still be here, and I wouldn't be by myself. I had been dreading the coming of the day that Duo had to leave, and when it finally did come, reality came crashing down on me once more, and I realized that he probably had more important things to do then hang out with someone as hopeless as me. As he walked out the door, he promised to keep in contact with me, something the other pilots hadn't done. But as he closed the door behind him, I had a feeling that even if he did keep in contact, I'd never actually see him again. When he left, my happiness left with him.

That was about two months ago, and I haven't been truly happy since that day. I've tried to find Trowa, so I could at least see him, but no one seems to know where the circus is. I've gotten a few letters from Duo, and that's about my only contact to anything outside my house. I can't bring myself to venture outside anymore, I feel that life no longer has meaning for me. I've spent the last two months trying to deal with my father's death, but I find it harder then it seems to be. I realize that I've been living in a fantasy world, where the heroes always win, and there's always a happy ending. Where nobody really dies, their memories always live on. Where the survivors don't live with guilt, but happiness, as they know that the world is a better place because of them. I used to live in a world filled with happy endings, the happy endings that my happy life supplied for me, that my father supplied for me. I loved him more then anything in the world, and he was taken away from me. I'd have to say that when he died, that was the first time I realized how hopeless, how depressing life really was. How there were no longer any untainted souls, no truly honest people. How the good guys don't always win, and even if they do, there's always a price to pay. Everyone in today's world is corrupt in one way or the other. There will never be an end to wars, no matter how hard we try, because there are always power-hungry people, people who can't enjoy life for what it is, they can only be disappointed with their life because it's not what it could be. 

I've tried to deal with the fact that I may be the only one of my breed left, the only truly kind person still out there. I know it sounds awfully self-centered to think this way, but I am led to believe that if I'm the only one who can see the world for what it's worth, that means I have to have something everyone else does not. All those people who are pacifists cannot see the views of the antagonists, the people who make wars. But I can see the views of both my allies and my enemies, and I am left to decide if that really makes me different from everyone else or not. These past two months, being completely by myself, has given me plenty of time to think things over. I can go for hours on end just sitting in the living room, or in my bedroom, and think about everything, all my memories, the friends I wish I had. I spend more then twelve hours of my day crying, because I now realize that the world isn't just, that there's no real law out there anymore. And it possibly makes me even more saddened to know that no one else realizes this.

Every time I finally find something else to occupy my mind with, something that doesn't involve wishing for Trowa to come and visit, something that doesn't involve wishing my father was still alive, something that doesn't involve me wallowing in my own self-pity, it's usually thoughts of suicide. I can think about it, but when I go to get the knife, or the gun, or the rope, I find myself unable to go any further. Is it possible that in all my loneliness, in all my desolation I still manage to find a glimmer of hope somewhere? That's my only answer, is that somewhere there's something stopping me from ending my life. I don't know what that something is, but the closest I've ever come to suicide is holding the knife in my hands and weighing the consequences. With all the reasons I have to live against all the reasons I should no longer live, I should've used the knife. But something stops me every time. Maybe a guardian angel, maybe just me being a coward, being weak like I so often am. Because as soon as I put the knife down, I lose that glimmer of hope that stopped me. Usually after one of these episodes, I'll go into my room and sit in the darkness, crying once again.

The world, much like myself, has lost sight of it's values. We live in a world where even young kids have to face the hardships of war at an early age. I was fortunate enough to have a family that wanted to protect me from those hardships. Unfortunately when I tried to return the favor, it ended up costing my father and my sister their lives. Children from every generation should always grow up believing that all stories, all situations, have a fairy-tale ending. While they should not be led to believe this forever, they should be able to have an untainted childhood where everyone is nice, where everything turns out alright. When reality finally comes to them, at whatever age that may be, I only hope they can cope with it better than I have. As often as I like to think I'm over my painful past, as often as I like to think everything will be alright someday, I know I am lying to myself.

With all these realizations, with all this depression, this pain, I am only left to wonder if everyone else goes through this, if everyone else has to face reality in this manner. I've learned from experience that not everyone can go through realization in this way. I know people, like Trowa, who have gone through so much more and have dealt with it so much better then I. All I can do is watch them as they take the hardships that life throws at them, and watch then as they continue onwards in life, shoving their past behind them and becoming stronger because of it. I can only watch as they come to terms with their various problems, and I can only be envious of them for being able to continue with their life.

Maybe that is my glimmer of hope; why I never pull the trigger on the gun. Maybe somewhere deep inside that's why I care for Trowa so much. I don't think he realizes it, only because I've never said it out loud, but maybe that's my hope, my one reason for moving onwards in life; Someday I want to be able to be like Trowa, to push my problems behind me. But until that day, until I reach my goal, I can only dwell in my past and try to do what Trowa thought I did so long ago: put the ghosts to rest.

~ The End ~


End file.
